


First Impressions

by tree



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Austen, The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-07
Updated: 2009-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 03:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tree/pseuds/tree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to the X-Files, Agent Darcy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> what was meant as a drabble for elizabeth_hoot's [drabblefest #2](http://elizabeth-hoot.livejournal.com/48270.html) \- halloween-o-vision, but became more like comment!fic. [hl](http://hl.dreamwidth.org) keeps poking me about a P&amp;P/XF crossover, so i wrote for her prompt to ~~appease~~ please her. it's not the greatest, but it was fun all the same. if you recognise any situations or ~~entire sections of~~ dialogue, consider it an homage.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was not impressed. After a short briefing by Section Chief Blevins and an unidentified man, he was on his way to his new assignment. Stabbing the down button in frustration, he paced along a tight, precise line in front of the bank of elevators.

"There you are, Darcy," called a cheerful voice behind him. "How was the meeting with Blevins?"

Darcy turned. "How do you think it was, Bingley? They're transferring me from Quantico to Violent Crimes."

Charles Bingley regarded his friend with his usual expression of good humour. "Violent Crimes is a highly sought after assignment, you know. Anyone else would consider this a promotion."

"I'm a pathologist Bingley, not an investigator. And I'd hardly call working with a woman who believes in little green men a promotion," he added with scorn. "What the hell would be a demotion?"

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime as Bingley offered his friend a shrug and a smile. The doors closed on Darcy, his entire posture eloquent of his distaste.

In the dim, close basement of the Hoover Building, he knocked on the lone door, marked Agent Elizabeth Bennet.

"Nobody down here but the FBI's most unwanted," called a light voice.

He opened the door to a room more like a warren or a den than an office. In one corner sat a desk piled high in disarray. Behind it sat a woman, peering into a lightbox.

"Agent Bennet, I'm Fitzwilliam Darcy. I've been assigned to work with you." He stopped in front of the desk and held out his hand.

Elizabeth Bennet turned to face him with an amused smile, and shook his hand. "So who'd you piss off to get this assignment, Darcy?"

Though he knew her to be closer to thirty than twenty, her small face with its pointed chin made her look more like a college student than an FBI agent. She had dark eyes behind her glasses and hair of a nondescript brown that was pulled back into a bun. Strands of it had escaped and fluttered around face her like misplaced feathers. She resembled nothing so much as a fluffy baby owl.

"It seems our superiors felt my scientific background would be of use in your investigations," he replied.

She laughed. "I don't think you really believe that any more than I do. You've been sent to spy on me."

Darcy felt a pang of irritation. "If you have any doubts about my qualifications—"

"No, no," she waved her hand and removed her glasses. "Your qualifications are very impressive. Rewriting Einstein is not for the faint of heart. It's just that the laws of physics so rarely seem to apply in the cases I investigate."

She moved around the desk toward him and he saw with a start how small she was. In her modest heels, she barely came up to his chin.

"Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials, Agent Darcy?"

Up close he saw that her eyes were a dark, dark blue; long-lashed and full of amusement.

"Logically, I would have to say no," he began, and watched a mocking little smile flash across her face. She was playing with him, he realised with ire. "Given the distances needed to travel from the far reaches of space, the energy requirements—"

"That's the conventional wisdom, yes," she broke in, moving past him to switch off the light. "But what does conventional wisdom tell you about this substance?"

Against the far wall, a slide projector showed a molecular diagram. He stepped closer to get a better look. "It's organic. I don't know, is it some kind of synthetic protein?" he asked, turning back to look at her.

"I don't know either. But that's why they put the I in FBI." She switched off the projector and flipped on the lights. "We have a flight tomorrow at 8 am; I suggest you get a good night's sleep."

Darcy watched her extricate two items from the chaos of her desk and hold them out to him.

"Your ticket and a little light reading."

He flipped open the file in his hands and found himself looking at autopsy photographs and pathology results. Looking up in some surprise, he found her watching him with that same expression of amusement she'd worn when he first walked in the door.

"Welcome to the X-Files, Agent Darcy."


End file.
